


Heading East

by TinaMuller



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bitterweet ending, Character Death, Complete, Essos, Fix-It of Sorts, Jon won‘t be resurrected, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 09:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinaMuller/pseuds/TinaMuller
Summary: Perhaps, after all, she was like her father: She was going to burn them all. But at the same time, she was not mad, nothing like her father, so while she was going to burn them, she was going to do so figuratively.Or: Jon died in the Long Night and Daenerys changes her plans.





	Heading East

**Author's Note:**

> I don't really know where this came from, but once I had the idea I had to type it out. Hopefully you enjoy this.
> 
> Everything belongs to G.R.R. Martin and also kind of the HBO (who produced 6 great seasons).

It was such an irony, that Sam had told him the truth about his mother right before this battle. He was a Targaryen, he was the Last Dragon's son. But the Last Dragon, Rhaegar Targaryen, had never been the last dragon. His younger sister, Daenerys, would be the next one. Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. His Queen. And while he remembered her titles, he stood up, rising Longclaw to face the undead Viserion. It was Tyrion's fault they went all up there and their fault the dragon died. It felt right to face it now, alone. Maybe it wasn't just Daenerys. Maybe, he was unburnt, too. He had all but forgotten about the lamp that burned his skin in this moment, staring into the bright blue eyes. He screamed. The undead dragon unleashed his blue, magic flame. They would only find Longclaw in the rubble, Jon Snow had been too close to the dragon to be anything more than ashes.

 

The battle ended seconds later, with Arya Stark impaling the Night King, ending the threat of the White Walkers - now and always.

The casualties were high and Daenerys Stormborn stood there, silently, devastated. So many Unsullied and Dothraki had died because she had trusted other people to know the area of the battlefield. Thankfully, she had stationed troops back at Dragonstone to protect the island. Only two of her most trusted people had survived: Grey Worm and Missandei. Qohno had lost his life. Ser Jorah had lost his life. Jon Snow had lost his life. The sense of dread was all too familiar, it was like loosing Drogo and Rhaego all over again, this time amplified because of the countless other deaths.

Around her, the Northmen were cheering and getting drunk, hailing their new Queen, Sansa Stark. Tyrion was standing next to her, talking animatedly and drinking wine. Daenerys Stormborn stood there, silently, tasting fire and blood on her tongue. She left the big hall and instead went outside to her remaining people. The only relief she felt was that they knew she went out there to save them, no matter that she changed the plan. It wouldn't have worked out anyway, the Night King had survived her dragonfire after all.

Behind her, the drunken chaos remained, but she couldn't care. These were her people, the only ones she cared about. Her supporters were dead, only Queen Yara Greyjoy remained. Daenerys would help her destroy Euron, she swore that to herself. The Dornish and Lady Olenna had been obliterated, as was Jon Snow. Only Lannister supporters remained, and of course the Starks, who were so keen on getting drunk and being praised that they did not care about all the fallen men and women, even if Jon Snow had been part of their family.

"What shall we do now?" Grey Worm wanted to know and Daenerys looked at him, contemplating. What she was going to do was obvious to her and she suspected none of them would mind. Perhaps, after all, she was like her father: She was going to burn them all. But at the same time, she was not mad, nothing like her father, so while she was going to burn them, she was going to do so figuratively. Watch them destroy each other, feed the soil of this cold, forsaken country with their blood. Nursing only death and destruction. Daario had said it best: She was not meant to sit on an iron chair. The Iron Throne would be her family's legacy, but it wasn't the only one. Not even the most important one. What were three hundred years compared to all the centuries as dragonriders? Drogon was still with her, as was Rhaegal, and why should she chain herself when she could fly? The Breaker of Chains should not be bound in shakles herself. "Zaldrizes buzdari iksos daor."

Everyone was looking at her and she took a deep breath, adressing all her people, first in the Common tongue and then switching effortlessly to Valyrian and later Dothraki, so all would know. "It's done. The fight is over. These people here disrespect us and what we stand for. We will leave and go back home - to Essos. Where we will finish what we began and won't stop until no slave is left in chains. And after that, we will go east, over the Mountains, all the way to Asshai and beyond, to fight against the Lion of the Night and whatever else might await us! If the Westerosi want only death and repeated history, let them have it. We will be the history of Essos, remembered for a thousand years and longer!"

Their loud cheers were enough for Queen Daenerys Stormborn. It was time to end the game.

Tyrion Lannister was unceremoniously stripped off his badge. "Missandei told me about your wavering loyalty. Go on then. Find yourself a new saviour, one that allows you to keep the wheel turning." Daenerys told him as she pulled the bagde from his doublet. "And if I ever see you or Lord Varys in Essos, know that only Fire and Blood awaits you."

A part of Daenerys enjoyed it too much to look Sansa Stark in the eye and smirk. "Well, Lady Sansa, you told me you couldn't provide for my troops, so I have news for you you will enjoy. We will leave Westeros." The readhead stopped smiling then. "But you swore to protect us. Cersei is sending her troops North." Oh, she could feel it then, the taste of Fire and Blood on her tongue. "And as far as I know, you style yourself Queen in the North now. You don't consider yourself part of the Seven Kingdoms anymore. Cersei sits on the Iron Throne. How she deals with despodents is her business."

Looking out for Euron's fleet, Danerys perched atop of Drogon, she flew as high as the clouds. Rhaegal was on Dragonstone, with most of her remaining army. She had aready lost one child, she would not loose the other - especially not the one that had bonded with the man she had loved. Dragons without riders were far more likely to die, being more reckless in general. Samwell Tarly had told her as much when she spoke to him, telling him about the was his family had betrayed the Tyrells and the price they suffered for it. He had calmed down significantly by then, apparently Tyrion had left out the part where she offered them to take the black.

Euron was smiling like a madman when he died, charred to coal by Drogon's breath. Some of his fleet captains agreed to bow to Yara - they sailed back home to the Iron Islands. The rest joined Euron. Whether being turned to ash and being distributed all over the ocean counted as a tribute to the Drowned God, Daenerys did not know. After all, she was a Targaryen, the last dragonlord of Old Valyria, and neither her not her two dragons bowed to any god.

Yara Greyjoy would be rewardes for her loyalty. An exclusive trading deal with Essos ensured that she and her people would have never to go hungry again. They would not return to the Iron price raiding the shore, but whenever a ship came close that had hoisted the colours of Yara's or Daenerys' enemies, they would become tributed to the Drowned God very soon.

Essos had crumbled under her boots in the end. Old Volantis, already wary because of the events in Mereen, opened the gates, freeing the slaves. Kinvara, the high priestess of R'hollor, finally met the Princess who was Promised, foreshadowing the last Targaryen a life filled with fights, vengence, justice, Fire and Blood. Daenerys didn't mind, these had always been the only things her enemies deserved.

One by one, the Free Cities bent the knee. While any slavery in Braavos had long been outlawed, the Iron Bank had always considered it profitable. Until the day Danerys Stormborn had flown in on her dragon, as fierce as Aegon the Conqueror himself would have been and demanded a stop.

All of the Free Cities would remain free, under public government, but every slave trade would be punishable with death. The rules were considered harsh by some, but nobody dared to say that load, out of fear to by lynched by all the new free men and women in the city.

After Lorath and Qohor had finally abolished all slave trade, Daenerys Stormborn decided to lead her army east, to fight the darkness hiding in K'dath, ending every threat against humanity the world knew of. If there was something else waiting for her in Sothoryos or Ulthos, Daenerys did not know. But if she had to face it, she would. Before they set sail to the East, she had received news from Westeros, sitting in a tavern in a Tyroshi harbour.

Apparently, Cersei Lannister had slain Sansa Stark, only to be killed by Arya Stark right after. Disgusted with her younger brother Brandon, Arya had borded a ship to sail west into the Sunset Sea, never to be seen again. Most of the so-called world-leaders had died, including Tyrion and Varys. Tyrion had attempted to double-cross Sansa, only to be double-crossed by his elder sister. The wheel was ever turning in Westeros. But soon all their names would be forgotten. Not that Daenerys cared. Her care for Westeros had ended with the death of the man she had loved.

One day, Kinvara told her how the witch had been wrong - she would be able to conceive children again if she drunk a specific tonicum. Wondering whether she might be tricked, Daenerys reached for the goblet, drowning the potion. After all, if she would die then, at least she would be reunited with Jon Snow or perhaps Drogo. Instead, a year later, near Trader's Town, she gave birth to twins. Daario presented them to her, and his Queen nodded, pleased. She never loved Daario, but he loved her and he loved to please her. On most days, it was enough for her. On other days, it wasn't. But Drogon, Rhaegal and then her two children Aemon and Rhaella kept her going. A year and a half later, they would be joined by another sibling, Jon. Jon was not Daario's son but Myorko's, the Dothraki who followed Qhono as her commanding bloodrider. They did their duty, ensuring that she would have a Dothraki son following her example and lead the people. All of them would receive dragon eggs one day, and all of them would hatch.

Daenerys Stormborn never broke the ever-turning wheel of Westeros. But she broke the chains in Essos, a ruler beloved by millions. Prophecised by the Red Priests, she and her children fought against the Lion of the Night, ending the threat he had posed to Essos for millenia. But a part of her would always long for Jon Snow and his calm steadiness, the way he held her at night. Yet she never allowed herself to forget what love felt like: She could still feel it, after all, looking at her three children. And the songs written for her praises would live on, long after she had died. Why settle for Westeros when she could have Essos instead?

**Author's Note:**

> I‘m sorry that my mobile phone tagged this as Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen and not as Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen (past) as I intended. But I vehemently disagree with some comments: I do like Jon and I don‘t bash him in this fic. Dany never loves someone else, but she would do her duty if she had to (marry Khal Drogo, marry Hizdar zo Loraq in the books). And I truly believe that Jon‘s death would be even worse of a catalyst than Missandei‘s.


End file.
